Fright or flight?

The strangeness of fear (or lack thereof)

I'm talking about the fears that don't make sense, or at least, that don't make sense when taken out of context. Fear of spiders that aren't poisonous, of rodents nott dangerous, of heights well-barricaded.

This last — heights — is my especial irrational bugaboo. Standing on a chair to reach a high shelf makes me uneasy. Getting onto the counter to change a light-bulb makes me nervous verging on frightened.

Hell, one of my earliest childhood memories comes from a terror near paralysis I experienced when I had to ride a down escalator at the old Eaton's in Montreal. In fact, it's only in the past five — maybe 10 — years, that I've learned to travel the moving staircases in more or less complete serenity.

But put me in an elevator or on an aeroplane, no matter that the latter, especially, is objectively much more dangerous than riding an escalator, and I feel no fear whatsoever.

At least, that's always been my experience on commercial airplanes. But I've wondered, ever since I first flew as a passenger in a Dash-8, how I would react were I to ride in the cockpit of a small aircraft, without the illusion of safety even a small passenger liner provides.

In truth, I'm a little embarrassed by what I found when I re-read my review of Peter Jackson's first Lord of the Rings film. It's a well-written piece, yes (if I do say so myself), but with an hysterical edge of panic that I think the past 15 years have shown to be more than a little misplaced.

It's safe to say that J.R.R. Tolkien's classic will continue to be read, and quite possibly long after Jackson's epic trilogy is no longer watched.

In any case, my original review, for good or for ill, is back online here. Do you think I went overboard?

Notes on the uneasy satisfaction of prescience

September 11, 2016, OTTAWA — This afternoon, I drove my sweetie to the airport. She's off to Europe for a couple of weeks, scratching her nomad's need to move. As we drove in, she noticed the Canadian flag flying above The MacDonald-Cartier International Airport's welcome sign was at half-mast. "Look at that!" she said, "I wonder who died."

It took me a moment, then I realized. "It's 9/11!"

And of course, that's who died, the special victims, our victims, to be mourned forever, because 15 years on, we are a nation at war. Sort of.

And I remembered that I had written what I thought was a pretty powerful piece of analysis not so long after the fact, and went looking for it when I returned home. Only to realize that, somehow, it was a piece of work no longer attached to my website. Somehow, gone, lord only knows when or how.

Thank god for Archive.org! There were my words (not to mention an even more primitive design than the one "gracing" my site now), preserved for posterity, and for me. Remind me to send them a donation.

In any event, what follows is (but for a half-dozen typos I could not resist correcting) exactly what I posted on October 8, 2001.

Day 3: Che sera, sera

The Note that wasn't

January 1, 2016, OTTAWA — My diary for Day 3 is a bit of a cheat. I over-wrote the original and was forced to reconstruct it from memory and visual aids (ie, photos).

But I remember the day pretty well. We had our first introductions to the realities of Cuban bureaucracies and the limitations on freedom that Cubans have to deal with. We also spent time at the Che Guevara mausoleum and rode home in a horse-drawn taxi — no calèche, but a humble cart.

The Pedestrians' diaries, part 3

Day 2: The chickenscats streets of Santa Clara

December 30, 2015, OTTAWA — Our first full day in Cuba was a day of walking, walking and walking. Policemen at their ease, chicken invasions, Che's cat and many other wonders did we find (not to mention a single horror: the Worst Spaghetti In the World).

Santa Clara turns out to be a lot like what we have heard Cuba is like - and very, very different.

A Canadian abroad: Memories of Cuba, Part 2

Day 1: Airplanes, a Lada and food (glorious food!)

December 29, 2015, OTTAWA — Our introduction to Cuba included an ancient Russian automobile, the mysterious Cuban language of the highways, a lizard and an absolutely fantastic meal, belying everything we'd heard from those who had been to the island before us. A jet plane, a Lada and food! Glorious food!

_____

A Canadian abroad: Memories of Cuba, Part 1

Security theatre of the absurd

December 27, 2015, OTTAWA — Before I get to Cuba, a few notes about the insanity that mascarades as Security at our airports. And believe me, it wasn't the Cubans who were ridiculous!

A Canadian abroad: Memories of Cuba, Part 0

December 27, 2015, OTTAWA — I imagine the word Cuba brings to mind all manner of things. To the historically-minded, it could be the Bay of Pigs, or the Cuban Missile Crisis. To the romantic, bearded Che and Fidel emerging from the jungles to over-throw the gangster dictator Batista. To automobile-aficionados, it is vast fleets of ancient Detroit steel and chrome still rolling. Even agronomists and ecologists have an interest, since Cuba is the first country to successfully transition from a "modern" industrial agricultural system to a more-or-less organic system.

A cop in Santa Clara talks with a woman. His relaxed body-language was pretty typical of those we saw in uniform during our visit.

Geopolitics was what first came to mind when I thought of that Caribbean island, but now that I have actually visited, the reality of people and places has pushed the abstract to the back of the bus. And what a reality!